


A Quiet Life

by luway



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Minho calls Jisung darling, Slice of Life, Smoking, Underage Smoking, it's not sad, its just kinda here, literally the most domestic ass fic i've ever written, they cuddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 10:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18690022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luway/pseuds/luway
Summary: It’s a quiet life, just the two of them living in each others time and space, but Minho loves it.He wouldn't trade it for anything.





	A Quiet Life

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know what this was supposed to be but I guess thanks for reading lol

  Mornings fucking suck.

 

  Minho remembers being thirteen, buried under a pile of blankets and pillows with a little Soonie asleep under the blankets with him. Avoiding his mother downstairs calling for him to get up and go to school, because what the fuck was that for?

 

  Now Minho is almost twenty and laying in bed, which is nothing more than a mattress on the floor because he couldn’t afford much else. Not after he had to replace the dishwasher to his apartment per his landlords request. But the old asshole never liked Minho, so Minho wasn’t surprised at all.

 

  He stares up at the cracked ceiling, a chill settling over his shoulders and collarbones where they peek out from the little blanket space he's managed to keep, because there’s a lump beside him taking up all the rest of them. Minho is so far into his buzz of nicotine that he doesn’t notice the burn in the back of his throat when he takes another drag of the cigarette he holds between his fingers. He lets his arm drop and the ash sprinkle to the floor as he holds the smoke in his lungs before breathing out, glancing down at the patch of fluffy brown hair peeking out of the blanket lump and running his fingers through it gently.

 

  The windows have been open all night, because Minho got sick of the sickeningly sweet smell of the weed Felix came over to smoke with Jisung, but left before they actually finished the bowl. Jisung offered, but Minho has never been the recreational drug type, he'll leave that to the college students he houses every other night. Per the request of Jisung's puppy dog eyes he always uses to get what he wants.

 

   Well, that and a kiss will usually do Minho in for sure.

 

  Felix was gone before the sun went up, which means he’s really only been gone for an hour or so. Minho can’t really blame him though, he remembers being eighteen and hating life. And maybe he is just the best friends boyfriend who has a spare couch for people to lie on when life gets tough, but he doesn’t mind it. Last night was all shitty movies from illegal websites and stale garlic bread from the grocery store Jisung works at for pocket change, even though he doesn’t need any of it with his parents money and all of his scholarships.

 

  It was nice though.

 

  Minho stares at the crack in his ceiling, the one that winds around the still ceiling fan and tapers off somewhere in the back right corner. Smoke swirls through the air, in lazy spirals until it disappears into nothing, to cling to the walls and Minho’s clothes and gain him dirty looks when he walks down the road. He couldn’t care less though.

 

   He’ll get up sometime in the next twenty minutes, swear loudly because it’s freezing with the heat turned off, but he still won’t put on anything more than the worn out sweatpants he wore to sleep. He’ll made a lump of black out of the toast he tries to make Jisung, but he’ll still try because he knows it’ll make Jisung smile. Turn on the kettle than gives everything a burnt iron aftertaste, disguising it with a disgusting amount of sugar that only Jisung could drink without gagging. Trust Minho, he's tried.

 

  That’s life though.

 

  He’ll walk back into his room, and he’ll find the same lump on his mattress, and if he thumps it with his foot he’ll hear a familiar groan. One that makes his lips break into a fond smile, and his heart flutter just like it did the first time.

 

  “Too early…” Jisung will mumble, lifting his head up from where he buried his face in Minho’s pillows when he got up. His hair a complete rats nest of knots and static from rolling around in his cocoon all night.

 

  “You always say that darling.” Minho will say, in a sweet voice, because he can never do anything else when it comes to Jisung. “Look, I made you tea if that makes it any better."

 

  Minho will settle down on the mattress, crossing his legs and holding the mug for Jisung, because one too many stains on his sheets have taught him to be smart about things like that. He’ll hold his cigarette between his lips and run his fingers through Jisung’s hair because he knows Jisung loves it when he does, let the smoke from his cigarette drift and make his eyes water as he watches the sun creep past the skyline outside his window.

 

  Shadows will creep across the room, painting everything gold as the dark bleeds away.

 

  When Jisung finally wakes up, he’ll frown, and his eyes will get all squinty because it’s too bright.

  Jisung will say, “ _ Smoking is bad for you _ ,” or something along those lines. 

 

  But he’ll still take what’s left of the stub and take a drag for himself though, maybe press a kiss to Minho’s lips if he’s awake enough. Minho will let it happen, even though he promised himself yesterday and the days before that that they would both quit together, because even if he couldn’t care less about his own lungs he’d do anything for Jisung.

 

  They get comfortable, because they always do.

 

  Jisung will cuddle up to Minho, because Minho is a dumbass and refuses to wear a shirt when he sleeps, and Jisung is wearing the thinnest shirt in existence, because fuck it, why not? It gives them an inexcusable chance to cuddle in the morning. 

 

  Minho rubs Jisung’s back as he drinks his tea, both of them huddled under Minho’s duvet, even though it smells like smoke and old garlic bread and it should be disgusting, and it honestly kind of is.

 

  But then Jisung will hum a sleepy, “ _ Love you, _ ” over the rim of his mug, and Minho will realize something. 

 

  He wouldn’t trade this for anything.

 

  So he lays there, on his bed, alone, as he waits for Jisung to stir. And he knows he’s not completely alone. Because Jisung is curled up by his side, arm thrown across Minho’s stomach. The sun isn’t up yet, and Minho needs to go and talk to the landlord about putting their heat on again so Jisung won’t shiver anymore, but he wouldn’t trade this quiet for all the money in the world.

 

  It’s a quiet life, just the two of them living in each others time and space, but Minho loves it.

  
  
  
  


  “I love you too darling.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos appreciated


End file.
